Love Sonnet 66
by fantazise
Summary: Maybe the new person that I am has moved on, but she is ingrained in my mind, body, and soul. Her name is etched into my wrists, branded onto the small of my back, bitten onto my neck, licked onto the roof of my mouth… And I don't mind. Why? Because I love Alison DiLaurentis in fire, in blood, in life, and in death. I do not love her because I love her.


Emison one-shot. Let me just be clear with this- I do not ship Emison. I relate to Emily when she loved Alison before the disappearance, but I don't ship them once she comes back. It's too toxic. Well, I do ship them, but only in certain ways. Me and Emison's relationship is more complicated than Emison itself lmao. Ignore the typos. I didn't have the energy to read through this.

I do not own Pretty Little Liars or the characters. The poem this is based off of is 'I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You' by Pablo Neruda, otherwise known as Love Sonnet 66. With all that said, enjoy :)

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><p><em>I do not love you except because I love you; <em>

And that is all I know, that I love her, or I loved her, and that she is a part of who I am, who I will always be. At age fourteen I decided silently, introspectively, _my life is a series of questions, and all of them lead back to her_. _I will most likely never get the answers. _And oh, how true has that become. Even when she's gone, she's here, tormenting me the way only the ghost of someone like her can, binding me with her "love".

What is love? Who knows… and why is it that her eyes are prettier than the ocean water I saw at the Bahamas when she was eight. It was so diaphanous and beautiful. The coral reefs and the magnificent fish gave the shallow water a breath of life. When I look into her eyes, it's almost as if I'm swimming, and god knows I don't ever want to come up for air.

How come people melt in her mouth, fall for her the way sand slips through my fingers at the beach. Is it her smile? Her cupid-bow lips could make millions of men fall to their knees. Her golden hair, a queen's crown, for she reigns over everyone. Her eyelashes, prettier than any butterfly's wings known to man. No one knows. I spend countless sleepless nights trying to figure out what I believe is the eighth wonder of the world.

_I go from loving to not loving you,_

_ From waiting to not waiting for you_

_ My heart moves from cold to fire._

When I was fifteen, it didn't matter. I would cross oceans just to have her notice me. Eventually, she did, but it wasn't the attention I wanted.

Every time the five of us slept over at her house, she insisted I'd sleep in the bed with her. _I won't let you sleep on the ground, after all, you are my favorite, _she'd say when the other girls weren't looking with a wink that would make my insides churn. When Spencer would complain, she'd send her some of the dirtiest looks I've ever seen. Sleeping with her less than a foot away from was, at the time, the hardest thing I've ever done. Usually I'd sleep facing away from her. One time, I actually cried.

I remember one night particular. I slept on my side, facing her, and she was facing me though she was asleep. It could've been hours or just a few minutes, but I watched her chest rise and fall, her eyelashes flutter, or her tongue poke out every now and then just admiring. I was so at peace. _Want to take a picture, Em? It'll last longer. _She doesn't bat an eyelash. My blood began to boil. I wasn't angry at her, I was angry at myself. How could I allow myself to fall for someone so monstrous, so unhealthy? But deep down, I knew there wasn't an answer to that question and there never will be. Because where she is monstrous, she is beautiful. Like a gateway drug, I'd describe her.

She makes me feel like nothing with the straightest face, but I know her, and when she takes, she gives. Suddenly, she propped herself up on her elbow, leaned over, and kissed me. It was rough but fast and fleeting. She lays back down and faces away from. I was left stunned, by mouth hanging open, my skin on fire.

In the deafening silence I hear say in barely a whisper, _I do not love you, Emily. _

She is such a compulsive liar, she began lying to herself.

_I love you only because it's you the one I love; _

_ I hate you deeply, and hating you_

Every night after, she kisses me in the dark. It's silent and heartbreaking, and over and over again she'd pull away to say _I do not love you. I do not love you. _Is she reminding me, or herself? I want to hate her. I want hate her so bad I actually seek out revenge. I wish that I had some part of me that could make her hurt. I become so ritually angry until she touches me, and then I am calm. When she isn't with me, I'm a blizzard. When she is, I'm a forest fire. It's only when she's touching that I become something other than deadly, and I am only putting myself in peril.

_Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you_

_ Is that I do not see you but love you blindly._

_Hey Em! Wait up. _A smile, a special one, reserved only for her breaks out across my face when I turn to face her. She runs up to me through the corridors and holds a piece of paper under my nose. _I failed my French test, _she starts, _and I was thinking, maybe you'd want to come blow some steam with me tonight? Go dancing? _Yes, yes, a million times yes. That day was a Friday, so I told my parents I was staying with her that night and together we went to the club.

All eyes are glued to her as she walks in wearing a barely-there navy blue dress. I am jealous, because part of me wished that only I could be the one to look at her like that, but I'm also envious. Ridiculously so. How could she have so much power over strangers?

Four drinks and seven songs later she's dancing closer to me than I'd ever believe possible. I am buzzed and ecstatic, I can feel every wrinkle of her dress against my own. _You have no idea how long it's been since I had this much fun, Em. Mmm, just me and you. _I smile, and she smiles back, throwing her arms around my neck. She pulls me closer and closer, and she's kissing me.

It's wet, drunk, and sloppy. It tastes like vodka and strawberry lipgloss but I don't care. Around us, a few guys catcall but I don't think she notices. We kiss and kiss and kiss until she breaks away and latches her lips onto my neck.

I am absolutely sure I am on fire. Ignited, I feel in love, I feel turned on, and oddly, I feel appreciated. People are watching, I don't care and _she _doesn't care.

By the wrist, she pulls me to the bathroom and yanks me into the big stall in the corner. She pushes me to wall and becomes rougher than before. She's all skin and licks and bites and grabs. It's loud and wet, I'm sure anyone could hear us through the door. Her hands travel far lower than a best friend's hands should be. It's far stickier, far more intense, far more than just a kiss. She is heavenly.

_Maybe January light will consume_

_ My heart with its cruel_

_ Ray, stealing my key to true calm._

Immortality, she says, is dying young. She means it too, I know I'm going to lose her. I already have. She avoids looking me in the eye since that night at the club, her jabs at me are crueler, but I've grown indifferent. Yes, it hurts. It hurts so much that there is fire coursing through my veins, but I've become more than wounded. I am angry, I'm growing stronger.

When we're at Noel Kahn's New Year's party, and I'm drunk. We all are. She catches me staring at a Quaker schoolgirl and in a fit of jealously rather then guilt, she mocks,_ don't you wish you could taste her cherry Chapstick? _

I turn to look at her, she's holding my heart in her hands and she squeezing the life out of it. Her eyes, not the clear water of the Caribbean but dark like the middle of the ocean. Her face is red with envy and fear, completely contradicting her words' intentions. _Yes, _I say, _I do. _

And I mean it. When I walk up to that drunk, pretty girl, I swing her around and kiss her, making sure I could straight at those crystal blue eyes across the room as I do it.

_In this part of the story I am the one who_

_ Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,_

_ Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. _

The night they found her body in the yard I went home and cried for hours. Eventually I went numb, dehydrated and exhausted. It took me months to even begin to feel like myself again. Girlfriends came and went, but I knew this: the night she disappeared, a part of me disappeared with her. I wont ever be the same again, and without her, I will die. Not my body, but maybe my soul. My mind. I am not the girl I was, and she turned out not to be the girl I knew. It's pathetic, and it's sad. I am still getting to know her even though she's gone, and now, I am rebuilding myself.

Maybe the new person that I am has moved on, but she is ingrained in my mind, body, and soul. Her name is etched into my wrists, branded onto the small of my back, bitten onto my neck, licked into the rood of my mouth…

And I don't mind.

Why?

Because I love Alison DiLaurentis in fire, in blood, in life, and in death.

I do not love her because I love her.


End file.
